Leaving Sweden ,he walked at night
by Vitzy
Summary: A man, troubled from his past decides to leave his country in hope of a new life. AU and 19th century. ONE-SHOT


**DISCLAIMER : I , of course , do not own the character and personality of Eric Northman – he was created by the lovely Charlaine Harris , who I clearly am NOT.**

**A/N- Last year we had to do an original writing story for our English GCSE and I've tweaked it a little to base it around Eric (well what Eric may have been like if he lived in Sweden now as a normal human) . The Timeline is uncertain – it's just a in-the-moment type of story...anyway here goes...Hope you like it **

He walked at night

The gentle crushing of the softly gleaming white snow, in the otherwise tranquil night, was the only indication that someone was on the move. The absence of the flickering yellow light from the non-existent street lamps ensured that while animals and humans slept in unified oblivion, a criminal, infamous to all but invisible in the darkened sky, hurried along the snow filled path - a path that people of all walks of life had taken.

The path of cowardice.

Despite the frosty Swedish winter his only shield from the cold was a thin piece of cloth which he had just draped over his back and a pair of ill-fitting faded blue jeans. They clung to his legs like leeches would. His overgrown, bare and frostbitten yet queerly beautiful feet were sunk deep within the inner folds of the snow. Nevertheless, he did not at all seem perturbed by the chilly air which hung around him like a heavy curtain of pain, ready to fall any second. In fact this man was in a completely different state of mind, thinking thoughts that no one would believe would be possible for a man of his nature: The only solution to living life in trepidation, as he had got so accustomed to, was to start afresh. In a new place. In a new environment. In a new country, where no one would know about his past and he would not be looked at with fear and disdain every minute of his horrific life. Yet with each step he took towards the international border, the more his body willed him to turn around and rush back to the town which he had called home for thirty-three years. However, each time he defeated his body's plea.

Crushed it. Beat it. Conquered it.

He would not, could not jeopardise the lives of his wife and children anymore.

His only wish was to keep his family safe and by Thor if he had to flee...well flee he would.

If anyone was to cross his path tonight, they would not for one moment believe that the six-foot tall man , although appearing an entire foot shortened due to his almost permanently hunched back , could be a criminal of any kind, such were his handsome looks. His many tufts of golden hair sat magnificently on his head and settled past his broad shoulders. Now, as the wind picked up and quickly turned into a gale, the mass of gold flew around his face creating an almost angel like image. His almond shaped blue eyes were set fairly high up in his face. Above his eyes, his eyebrows met in the middle creating an impression of someone who constantly stayed in deep concentration, as was the case now. His lashes were thick and of a darker shade. He had a pointed nose and a mouth which set him apart from all other men. His tall, slim body boasted of well-defined muscles and his long legs could not be said to belong to a dirty and frightful looking person, as is the stereotypical image of criminals.

Certainly he was striking.

Distinctive.

Special.

Unusual.

He came across as approachable. Almost naive. However people who did meet him along his journey would be unfortunate because his unmistakable beauty was just a cloak concealing the dangerous beast inside him.

Straightening his back and reaching his full majestic height, the man emerged from his thoughts and tried to move his billowing hair from in his eyes. He was unsuccessful. Finally, exasperated, he reached into the right pocket of his jeans and drew out a piece of string, with which he tied his hair back and patted it - as if it were his pride and joy.

For the first time since he had begun walking, the man stopped in his tracks and looked to see what was around him. Little was visible to him through the now steadily falling thick snow but having grown up in the countryside, he could easily identify the contours of trees and bushes with snow weighing their branches down.

Standing upright and gracefully were tall trees and shorter ones too, all enhancing Sweden's natural beauty. Scattered around in a random array were small cottages with sloping roof tops. Despite the slopes, snow was still piled high on top of these roofs. Into the distance the sharp twists and turns of the Scandinavian mountains stood silently creating the beautiful skyline of the countryside. The peaks were draped in white cotton. The snow. These were the picturesque landscapes that appeared on Christmas cards every year, showing off the world's most breath-taking scenery.

Sweden's enchanting splendour captivated him and for a fleeting moment he let himself be lost in it. Imagining his life without the burden he had learnt to carry so well.

Imagining a life of freedom.

Liberated.

Unfortunately, reality called upon him and with a heavy heart he turned his back on the quiet mountains starting once more on his journey. It was the knowledge that it was just a matter of hours before his life would take a turn for the better, which kept his mind and body moving.

The gale pushed and shoved against his body with great force. As the snowflakes descended from the starless sky, the gale took control and the flakes spun in a whirl wind around him in a menacing pattern. As he fought against the tormenting weather he felt his body getting heavier and slower. He slapped his cheek hard to stay from falling asleep, and forced his eyes to stay open. Despite the harsh weather and his tired out body, the criminal urged himself to keep moving for he knew that the less he walked the more likely he was to be caught by the police, a possibility which he was not prepared to allow.

He knew that he could not carry on for much longer, at least for tonight. But where could he take refuge? A sheltered place would be ideal because it would be safe from any prying strangers and from the treacherous weather that refused to stop even for a split second. It was as if he had said a prayer and the Gods had answered him, for when he next looked up he saw that in his line of vision stood an abandoned wooden hut, faintly visible in the thick fog which enveloped it in its lair. It had at one time, he presumed, been a home for a poor farmer and his family. For the first time a ghost of a smile touched his lips, instantly lighting up his face. A true surge of happiness hit him as he realised that against all odds, luck was still with him. Urged on by his new found happiness, he used every ounce of energy left in his body to race towards the hut, which, at that minute was a beacon of light for him.

Entering from a gap in one of the walls his eyes shrewdly scanned his immediate vicinity, confirming to him that this was indeed not a mirage.

The inside of the wooden hut included a total of two rooms; the first had an upturned table made of timber and a single wooden chair with one of the legs missing. The latter was small. Square. And bare. The dust that had collected over the timeless age had settled onto any viable space, just as thick as the snow was outside. In that respect he was fortunate that allergies had never been a matter of concern for him. Cobwebs hung from the nearly collapsed door. Along the way, one of the hut's many guests must have tried to cover the gap in which the front door would have once stood because tied to the nails, which would have acted as hinges, was an exceedingly dirty and forlorn looking curtain. The whole hut had no windows, just walls made of some disintegrating building material. Claustrophobia was probably what had driven the hut's last inhabitants out. The wooden planks, which he supposed was the floor, were loosely fitted together. There were cracks where various animals had entered along the many years and tried to make this hut their home. Dirt tracks of dogs, hedgehogs, cats and even hogs littered the floor, indicating the many visitors the hut had become a residence for.

Although it was certainly not a place fit for any being to reside in, for this man it was a sanctuary of solitude and bliss.

Hunger and fatigue, he knew, were man's two biggest weaknesses. Not much could be done to satisfy his desire for food but sleep, he thought, was a necessity which he had prolonged enough, as he detached the curtain from the nails to use as a blanket. His decision to take rest in the second room was a wise one because, as the wind howled outside and threatened to destroy anyone in its course, a diverse selection of country animals decided to take shelter in the front room.

When he finally woke up from his well deserved slumber, it was to those beautiful hours before dawn which he always loved. He hastily untangled himself from his make-shift blanket and lumbered noisily into the front room only to be stopped in surprise at the sight of so many animals sleeping away in relative harmony. He gave a soft chuckle; a sound that did not often escape from his throat, and tiptoed outside. The scene which greeted him had him mesmerised, compelling him to explore. Even the air was completely still, as if holding its breath in awe of the snow and the trees and the plants and the mountains which were truly magnificent in the pre-dawn radiance of the wintery Swedish sky.

Minutes were left until the break of dawn and all of nature's children were erect in rapt attention at the anticipated minute when the mighty Sun would separate night from day. He felt the excitement in the air, the animals and the vegetation around him and looked up just in time to see the first rays of sunshine hitting the Earth with tremendous vigour, instantly illuminating the world around him.

Blinded as he was, he stared up in wonder at the great power, feeling ordinary and maybe even insignificant for the first time in his peculiar life.

As his gaze fell back to Earth, a lone signpost told him that the border was just a footstep away. At that moment, standing approximately four miles from his destination, another realisation struck him. He had endured and tolerated many hardships in his life and whatever the future may hold for him, it had to be better than his bygone past. This was the last time he would see Sweden, his home country, in daylight for next morning would be the first of his new life.

A life of gold that he never received but had yearned for thirty three years.

**A/N : Lol – slightly strange but it gave me a chance to explore Eric if he was just a normal Swedish guy. Go on leave a review ...**


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